


Counting to Ten

by bananabee



Category: RWBY
Genre: Multi, slightly angsty bees, that bumbleby high school au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 09:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13784553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananabee/pseuds/bananabee
Summary: Blake is here to prove magic exists in these bleachers.Yang is here to disprove it.





	Counting to Ten

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on Tumblr more than a month ago, i decided to revise it a little and post it here. I'm a bit rusty huhuhu so forgive me if this kinda sucks. Comments are always appreciated :) Now, have yo self some bees.

**_0\. Maybe this is just a hoax or some random tall tale we’ve heard from someone in school_ **

 “Now would you look at that,”

 Blake tried not to sigh in disappointment.

It was Yang. The girl guys  _and_  girls from her school fantasized about. She was a genius in kickboxing and soccer. And smart. And snarky. And funny. She thought of the puns this girl spewed during their classes together. She was one of those people who just radiated positivity and cheer and happiness. And Blake did not like being around her. Not because she hated her or something but because she finds people she was not close to tiring and hard to deal with and she most especially just could not handle people like her that day.

She ignored the blonde and took the seat farthest from her on the set of bleachers in front of the barren soccer field.

During the day, these bleachers were seats of losses and wins. During the night, they were seats that created magic.

 Or at least that is what people claimed.

 She ignored her, her gaze remained fixated on the empty field.

 But the lilac eyed girl stared at her.

 “Why are you here, Blake? Just  _yanging_ around? Don’t tell me you believe what they said about some magical crap in this place?” she asked with a slight chuckle.

Yang kept staring at her and this unnerved her. Finally, she broke her silence. She turned to the girl, her face expressionless and uncaring, and asked, “Why? Do you?”

She never meant to ask. But whatever, it sounded more like a statement than a question anyway. However, she did not get why this particular girl had the guts to ask her what she was there for, when there was a ninety-nine percent probability that she was there for the same reason.

Yang was still staring at her when she said, “Moments ago, I did, yes.” She returned her gaze back to the open field when Blake remained silent.

 The blonde spoke up again. “But now, I’m here to disprove this crap.”

 

  1. _**Maybe we should or should not or should have listened, but anyway;**_



 

She was never a believer of myths and whatever crap the girls at her school conjure from their fairytale-like fantasies. She briefly wondered though, why it was the fifth time she was there again, with the same girl she met days ago.

 Inside her head, she cursed her. She cursed the people who spread those tales of magic in the bleachers.

 The tales said that if you waited for the person you love in this place, that person would come for you – some sort of fairy or whatever entity would draw that person to this longing someone (her and the other fools perhaps) because the wishes of their hearts were heard.

 Or really, so they said.

 She wondered if the magic, if it did exist to begin with, repelled Sun from coming here because  _someone_   _else_ was also waiting for their someone. She wondered if the time it would for Sun to come here for herwas doubled, because  _someone else_  was waiting for their someone. She wondered if she was also now doubting, or “disproving this crap”, because  _someone else_  was also waiting for their someone (while disproving this crap, or to prove it, or whatever – Yang would win either way).

 She also wondered who Yang was waiting for.

 But Blake never dared to ask.

 For the fifth time in this togetherness, they still remained silent. Same old, same old, until one of them got hungry and leave the other to befriend the grasshoppers that swarmed the bleachers in the cold night.

 

  1. **_Maybe we were supposed to be here on the 31st of January of this year, or the next, or the_ _next lifetime, or the next lunar calendar the next genius would create next;_**



 

 She had not been looking, no. But she would not miss the fact that from henceforth that fifth night she left her, Yang had been endlessly looking at her with that weird smile on her face.

 It was not malicious; it was not a smile that preceded her reputation. It was a serene one. It was a  _weird_  smile.

 “Could you please stop whatever you’re doing?” Blake snapped.

 Yang smiled widely at her and looked away with a chuckle. But after five minutes she went back to her staring again.

  _Was this some sort of tactic to drive her away?_

 Blake scoffed inside her head.  _Well, she could only wish._

 On the eleventh night, she pretended to ignore the fact that she had been looking to see if Yang was at it again.

 

  1. **_Maybe like some sort of entity or magic I throw my books at you, and my pens, and my_ _bag, just so I would get to hold you instead._**



 

 Blake decided that she had enough. She moved closer to Yang and without any form of hesitation whatsoever, hit her with the book she was reading.

 Yang frowned. “I know exams are coming up, I get that I need to  _hit the books,_ Blake but that hurt.”

Blake stared at her. “I have no time for your wisecracks.”

 “Are you going to apologize?” she asked.

 “No.”

 Blake realized she was still not back to her place when she scooted closer to where she stood – she realized it was the first time both of them shattered that private space bubble they entitled themselves via an unspoken agreement ever since they discovered each other in this place. They did not talk at all before, anyway.

 She also realized that it was the second time she heard Yang’s voice – after fifteen nights.

 “Why not?”

 “You have been staring at me. I hate it when people stare at me. It’s bothersome,”

 Yang crossed her arms on her chest.

 “What? You’re nice to look at.”

 “Yeah and here I am trying my very best to read. If you try that again, you’re dead.”

 On the twenty second night, she pretended to ignore the fact that she had been looking to see if she was at it again… and again.

 

  1. _**Maybe we could work out some peaceful compromise;**_



 

 She had thought of not going there anymore.

 Because 1) It made no sense actually. Sun was not coming; he was probably busy spending time with that girl who was visiting from Haven, again.

 

She frowned.

 

 _He’s always too busy hanging out with her that he could not even_   _afford to give time for his best friend?_

 

_Preposterous._

But of course, she never looked at him only as a bestfriend did she?

 

What a joke.

 

And 2) Yang was there. She was all too much to take. Her radiance and everything good she seemed to exude. Blake was not used to it. And so she wondered why she was there again, with the same lilac eyed girl she was with a number of nights ago.

 

_Okay so maybe she is still hoping Sun would still come for her._

 

Blake absentmindedly sat in a place farther from her usual seat, closer to her company, an invasion of the private space for the second time around.

 

_Maybe she was wishing the stupid magic crap about the bleachers was true._

 

Then she saw Sun.

 

_Maybe she –_

Blake stood up when she noticed that Sun was starting to walk towards her direction. Blake ignored the fast beating of her heart, the wild pulsing of her veins – the same old familiar reactions she was oh so very familiar with whenever Sun was nearby (or when he was talking to her, or when he was walking her home, or when he was –)

 

“Don’t look.”

 

 She heard a voice and felt irritated, “What?”

 

 “Don’t look,” Yang repeated, and she stood up just as fast as she said those words, her arms stretching out, maybe to cover her eyes or whatever – but it was too late.

 

 Sun had been walking towards the girl from Haven, who was waiting for him down the field. She saw the two of them walk away.

 

_Maybe she was disproving the magic crap or whatever fuckery they said about this place._

 

She felt the warm hands leave her body, but the presence of the girl who almost saved her – she almost puked at the thought – remained still. The first threat of tears left her eyes, but she did not wipe them away. Blake did not even know she was crying.

 “Told you so.” Yang muttered.

When she heard her, the sadness she felt turned to ire. She turned to Yang and gave her a hard punch on her jaw, her tears turned to anger as she scratched her arms with her long nails and punched her all over again, and her tears turned to pure hatred as she plummeted her strong form down to the bottom of the bleachers, onto the wild grass, her on top of her only hitting and hitting and hitting as hard as she could, until the sun had set and she remained seated on Yang’s flat stomach with no sign of remorse registering in her brain.

 And then she cried.

 

  1. _**Maybe they are playing a cruel joke and maybe we cannot laugh;**_



 

The pangs of remorse came when she went back there again (again, she did not know why she came back) and she saw Yang with bandages all over her face, with that serene smile she had grown accustomed to, obviously waiting for her to arrive.

 She absentmindedly sat in a place farther from her usual seat, closer to her company, an invasion of the private space for the sixth time around.

 Yang was still looking at her. When she said sorry, it was inaudible and Yang could not believe her when she said it because her beautiful aristocratic face remained expressionless, as if forming words did not require moving a muscle. Yang caught her apology, inaudible as it was, and she marked that moment in her unwritten diary.

 She looked up at Yang for the first time. When their eyes met,  _God, for the first time,_  Yang’s heart is swelling with pride. Yang smiled.

 

  1. _**Maybe you like me, maybe not, maybe you like me, maybe not;**_



 

 Yang felt like she already lost this battle with the bleacher entity.

 She felt like  _she_  had finally arrived.

She'd fallen for Blake practically ever since after the day they met.

They were 10 years old. 

Yang could remember how she froze when she saw Blake. She was quietly standing beside their teacher; hands intertwined in front, a little black bow on top of her hair. Yang could remember staring at her while their teacher told them Blake was a transfer student from Menagerie. Yang's lilac eyes were wide, blinking, and not believing that someone can be so  _pretty._ Blake caught her staring and frowned a little. Yang remembered what Tai always told her and her sister, Ruby, about how smiles can help you make friends and whatever so Yang gave her a huge smile. Blake merely blinked and looked away. 

She'd fallen for Blake for such a long time but she'd never gotten the chance to give it a shot. Yang could swear Blake has not talked to her save for the few times she was obligated to do; when they were assigned as lab partners, or when they were assigned as head of the food and drink committee when the school had a big charity event during their sophomore year.

She knew she'd never have a chance that was why she did her best to ignore her feelings and focused on making the best out of high school and her future. But she decided to humor the dumb stories their schoolmates and classmates had spread around about these bleachers just to disprove its so-called magic and prove how stupid it was.

She thanked all the gods that she did, though. 

So again, Yang felt like she already lost this battle with the bleacher entity.

She gave Blake, who was sitting beside her, a soft look.

They were eating mango crepes this time. Yesterday, it was the caramel sundae. The day before yesterday, it was her homemade tuna turnover. The day before the day before yesterday it was wicked oreos, the day before the day before –

 “ –but that’s what we do during Christmas anyway. Hey, are you listening?”

 She mentally scolded herself. “Yes. Yes, I was. Your prettiness distracts me from time to time though.” Blake rolled her eyes and continued babbling. Yang felt like she finally understood that  _this_ was what her dad meant by what he told her before. 

 _One day you’ll find that one person, and when that day comes_   _you’ll never look for anyone else again._

 Yang felt like she had already lost her battle of disproving the so-called magic in the bleachers. Maybe the magic crap was true. The bleacher magic probably has won. But then she remembered that the girl she had been waiting for, Blake, was waiting for someone else. And obviously, that someone wasn’t her.

 So, she felt like this was a short-lived victory for the bleacher entity after all.

 

  1. _**Maybe maybe maybe, I do too;**_



 

 On the thirty-seventh night Blake asked Yang;

 “Do you like me?”

 On the thirty-seventh night she answered Blake;

 “Yeah, Blake, I do.”

 

  1. _**Maybe I lost and you won so now how do we count this when we prove it and disprove it at the same time;**_



 

She did not come for weeks.

 Yang wondered if it was because she told her she liked her, or maybe she got tired of waiting. She wondered if she already stopped waiting when she saw her approach the bleachers once again.

 Yang wondered if Sun had already come for her considering the radiant smile on her face. Blake wondered if Yang could tell.

 “Hey.”

 She brought Yang hash browns and strawberry tea.

 “Long time no see. Have you been well?” Blake said as Yang accepted the food she gave her. Yang shrugged. “Yeah. Have you?”

Blake did not answer, instead she asked, “So, that person you were waiting for? I never got to ask who it was.”

 “She had come.” Yang answered.

_She._

 “Really..?”

 Yang only smiled at her. Blake pretended to ignore the fact that she was looking when she saw that Yang was smiling. Different from the way she smiled days before, it was a sad one.

 One that did not belong to Yang Xiao Long’s cheery persona.

 “Well. Cool. Yang, uh.. Sun told me he liked me too. You knew, right?”

 “Yeah. Did you come to tell me that?” she asked before taking a bite out of her hash brown.

 “Well, he is waiting for me outside the field. I did tell him I’ll go somewhere first. So maybe I did come to tell you that.”

 Almost as fast, Blake took her in her arms and held on tight. On muffled words, she tried to speak but she did not know what to say. She was thankful for the way they held each other. She wanted to be nowhere but here. She did not know what to say. But she tried.

 “So, introduce me to that girl. Is she nice?”

“She is. Just like you, actually. Black hair, hits me with books.”

 She laughed. “Really? Then she must be  _very_  nice. I must meet her soon.”

 A muffled silence enveloped them and she held on to Yang, tighter and  _tighter_  and never understanding why she did not want to let go. She only held her tighter.

 “You can’t. She just slipped me by.”

 And then Blake Belladonna felt her tears spill.

 

  1. _**Maybe she will come back, and then maybe I won’t be waiting;**_



 

Yang was by herself.

She should be happy, she had the field and the bleachers all to herself. She should be happy. But she wasn’t.

  _Will she come back?_

  _I hope she does._

 Yang kept hoping but deep down she knew Blake was not going to.

 

  1. _**Maybe you and I are not meant to be, and we’re not waiting for each other after all;**_



 

 On the hundred and first night, by some miracle, Blake came back for Yang.

 


End file.
